| The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, |
| The vapours weep their burthen to the
ground, |
| Man comes and tills the field and lies
beneath, |
| And after many a summer dies the swan. |
| Me only cruel immortality |
| Consumes : I wither slowly in thine arms, |
| Here at the quiet limit of the world, |
| A white-haired shadow roaming like a dream |
| The ever-silent spaces of the East, |
Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of
morn.
|
| Alas! for this
gray shadow, once a man— |
| So glorious in his beauty and thy choice, |
| Who madest him thy chosen, that he seemed |
| To his great heart none other than a God! |
| I asked thee, ‘Give me immortality.’ |
| Then didst thou grant mine asking with a
smile, |
| Like wealthy men who care not how they
give. |
| But thy strong Hours indignant worked their
wills, |
| And beat me down and marred and wasted me, |
| And though they could not end me, left me
maimed |
| To dwell in presence of immortal youth, |
| Immortal age beside immortal youth, |
| And all I was, in ashes. Can thy love, |
| Thy beauty, make amends, though even now, |
| Close over us, the silver star, thy guide, |
| Shines in those tremulous eyes that fill
with tears |
| To hear me ? let me go : take back thy gift
: |
| Why should a man desire in any way |
| To vary from the kindly race of men, |
| Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance |
Where all should pause, as is most meet for
all ?
|
| A soft air fans
the cloud apart ; there comes |
| A glimpse of that dark world where I was
born. |
| Once more the old mysterious glimmer steals |
| From thy pure brows, and from thy shoulders
pure, |
| And bosom beating with a heart renewed. |
| Thy cheek begins to redden through the
gloom, |
| Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close to
mine, |
| Ere yet they blind the stars, and the wild
team |
| Which love thee, yearning for thy yoke,
arise, |
| And shake the darkness from their loosened
manes, |
And beat the twilight into flakes of fire.
|
| Lo ! ever thus
thou growest beautiful |
| In silence, then before thine answer given |
Departest, and thy tears are on my cheek.
|
| Why wilt thou ever
scare me with thy tears, |
| And make me tremble lest a saying learnt, |
| In days far-off, on that dark earth, be
true ? |
‘The Gods themselves cannot recall their
gifts.’
|
| Ay me ! ay me !
with what another heart |
| In days far-off, and with what other eyes |
| I used to watch—if I be he that watched— |
| The lucid outline forming round thee ; saw |
| The dim curls kindle into sunny rings ; |
| Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my
blood |
| Glow with the glow that slowly crimsoned
all |
| Thy presence and thy portals, while I lay, |
| Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing dewy-warm |
| With kisses balmier than half-opening buds |
| Of April, and could hear the lips that
kissed |
| Whispering I knew not what of wild and
sweet, |
| Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing, |
While Ilion like a mist rose into towers.
|
| Yet hold me not
for ever in thine East : |
| How can my nature longer mix with thine ? |
| Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me, cold |
| Are all thy lights, and cold my wrinkled
feet |
| Upon thy glimmering thresholds, when the
steam |
| Floats up from those dim fields about the
homes |
| Of happy men that have the power to die, |
| And grassy barrows of the happier dead. |
| Release me, and restore me to the ground ; |
| Thou seëst all things, thou wilt see my
grave : |
| Thou wilt renew thy beauty morn by morn ; |
| I earth in earth forget these empty courts, |
And thee returning on thy silver wheels.
|
| Alfred, Lord
Tennyson | Classic
Poems |
| |
|
[ The Brook ] [ Blow, Bugle, Blow ] [ Come into the garden Maud ] [ Tithonus ] [ Ulysses ] [ Tears, Idle Tears ] [ The Lady of Shalott ] [ Song of the Lotus-Eaters ] [ The Charge of the Light Brigade ] [ In the Valley of Cauteretz ] [ In Memoriam ] [ The Eagle ] |
